Promises
by linnell
Summary: A PreRent fic... it explores what Mark went through after April died and Roger was diagnosed. - FINALLY FINISHED!
1. Chapter 1

In my mind it all made sense. In my mind, I understood what was going on. Roger was in the hospital going through withdrawal. He had been diagnosed HIV+. April was dead. In my mind it made sense, but in my heart, it hurt.

She had been sick for weeks but she wouldn't go to a doctor. She never stopped using, neither of them did. They locked themselves up in the loft, only leaving to score. I came and went as if I was stranger, spending most of my nights with Maureen, who had had enough and moved out long before. I stopped in everyday with excuses that I needed more film, or I forgot someone's phone number, but really I was just checking on them, making sure they were still alive, and making myself available for any pleas of help.

There were many nights that I tried to talk to Roger, trying to reach him when he wasn't wasted. It was seemingly impossible, if he wasn't high he was only concerned on finding a way to get high again. He repeatedly told me to mind my own business or to lighten up. One time, he even tried to convince me to join them, saying that I was too uptight and needed to relax.

Another conversation in particular I will never forget. I was home trying to find a reel of film for my project and heard them fight and April slam the door. I went over to Roger's side of the room and sat down on his bed. He was lying there wearing only his underwear; his head transfixed to the pillow and his eyes half closed. He looked like death. I tried talking to him, and he just told me to leave him alone. I told him I missed him and I wanted to hang out like we used to, but he told me he was too busy. Too busy doing what? He just said that April took up all of his time and he didn't have time for me anymore. He told me to face the facts that we weren't friends and he didn't know why I kept bothering him and April. He said that I was leading a pathetic existence and why didn't I just get out of his life. But what I remember most about those horrendous words, was the voice that spoke them. It wasn't Roger's. It was soft and slurred and every syllable seemed to take each and every ounce of energy that he had left. 

No human being had ever made me feel as worthless as Roger did that night. It wasn't his words exactly, though they did their damage, but the fact that there was nothing I could do. I was helpless; my best friend no longer wanted me in his life. Instead he chose a drug, though I knew the choice wasn't his anymore. Maureen, though understanding, didn't understand. She told me to just move in with her and let him waste his life away. She was angry with him for doing this to himself, and couldn't comprehend why I still cared. It had been months that this was going on. Roger hadn't been himself for so long, I almost forgot why I cared. I vowed not to go back to the loft. Roger wasn't going to ask for my help and I couldn't take the pain anymore.

I went back two days later.

Everyday I went to the loft, I stopped with the excuses, and they didn't care anyway. Everyday I brought them food, which they never ate. I kept paying the phone bill, so that if they ever needed it, it would work. They never spoke to me, except to ask me for money. I would never give them a dime. For the past few weeks, when I went to the loft, I noticed April was sick. She had a dreadful cough, which seemed to get worse daily. I urged her to go the doctor, but she told me she was fine. 

Finally I dropped by one day and Roger was by himself. I asked him where April was and he said that she was at the emergency room. They called an ambulance because she couldn't breathe. I asked why he wasn't there and he just shrugged. Unbelievable. This wasn't the person I once knew, who would drop anything for the people he loved. I asked what hospital she was at and mumbled the answer, and I quickly left to go see her. When I got there I found out she was diagnosed with pneumonia and they were still running tests. I told them that she was using heroin and they pretty much knew that. They said all they could do was make her better and send her home. Sure enough a few days later she was back and she and Roger resumed their normal positions.

The day after April came home, I went to the loft to check in and before I reached the door, I heard Roger screaming. I felt a surge of fear enter my heart. Roger hasn't shown any emotion at all, so to hear the rage that was coming from the other side of the door scared me. I opened the door slowly and saw Roger holding April's body as he rocked her back and forth. He was screaming for her to wake up. I noticed immediately the blood. This wasn't an overdose. 

So here I sit here in the hospital and wait. Maureen was here, but had to leave to go to work. Collins is stuck in Cambridge with no money and no transportation. He made me promise to call every hour with updates. I try to close my eyes, but all I see is Roger holding April's dead body. The words to the note ring through my head, as if she is saying them. "We have AIDS." 

Fuck you, April. I want to blame her for this; I want to blame her for introducing heroin into Roger's life, into our lives. They started dating so casually, both seeing other people. She and I never got along. Yes, she was beautiful and fun, I could see what he saw in her, but I saw another side. She was very possessive of him, never allowing me time alone with him. It didn't take me long to realize that if I wanted to see Roger, I had to see her too.

"Roger Davis can have visitors now."


	2. Chapter 2

"Roger Davis can have visitors now." The nurse smiled at me and gave me a gentle squeeze on my shoulder. She had been very nice to me during the hours that I waited, bringing me tea and offering kind words.

As I get ready to step into his room, a thousand pictures of what he may look like race through my mind. None of my fantasies are what I encounter. He willingly admitted himself so he wasn't bound to the bed, just attached to a heart monitor and a few other pieces of equipment that are unfamiliar to me. He is lying on top of the covers and I immediately notice how skinny he has become. His once muscular body has deteriorated to skin stretched over bones. I also observe the track marks on his arms. I had never seen them before and realized all this time; he kept them hidden from me. I couldn't take my eyes off of them; there seemed to be hundreds. He looked like a junkie. 

"Mark?" His voice is soft, but it sounds like the Roger that I know. 

"Yeah, buddy, It's me." I try to choke back the tears, but as soon as I hear his voice the floodgates open. "I'm sorry, I just… I…" I notice his eyes and for the first time since I came into the room, they were wide open. And alive, they were not the eyes of a stranger anymore.  
"Shh. Shh, it's ok, calm down."  
Leave it Roger to try and comfort me while he is lying in the hospital bed. I take a deep breath. "Uh… I didn't know if you wanted me here or not."  
"Of course." He manages a small smile for me. "Mark, its fucked up, yesterday, I didn't care if I died, in fact I wanted to, but now I'm scared that I'm going to die too soon." I nod and notice the single tear running down his face. "April… she didn't even try to fight this. I thought she was stronger that that…" He seems to be saying this to himself more than me. We sit in silence for a long time until he falls asleep and a nurse kicks me out.

Finally I see a doctor come out of his room. After some fast-talking, I finally get him to answer me. I have so many questions for him and he is very patient with me and answers them all. He tells me that Roger is HIV+ and does not have the AIDS virus. He says that Roger is lucky, because had he continued on the same path he was heading, he may have not been diagnosed until much later and his immune system would have shut down eventually. He is starting him on AZT and begins lecturing me about helping Roger take care of himself. I tell him not to worry, that I will make Roger crazy with my nagging. He smiled and told me Roger was lucky to have a friend like me. 

I called Collins and told him the news. I couldn't tell him about Roger's HIV status before, because… well just because. Collins began sobbing on the other end of the phone line. Those words are very familiar to him. He begs me to talk to Roger, but I tell him I'm on a payphone in the hall, and he's sleeping. He starts swearing because he has no way to get here, that he needs to be here for Roger. I tell him not to worry, that Roger will understand. He makes me promise to call him from Roger's room when he wakes up.

The next time I'm allowed into Roger's room, he is sitting up in bed fully dressed. He looks like a different person. The coloring in his face has returned to normal, and he was giving the nurse a hard time. I walk in the room and Roger declares his happiness seeing me. "They are letting me out of here. Finally!"

"Yeah, I know, the doctor gave me all the instructions. You have to start taking AZT and get a lot of rest."  
"Yeah, yeah… I know…." He smiles, I know he appreciates me looking out for him. It is just hard for him to express his feelings. "When is April's funeral?"

"April's funeral?" I am actually shocked that he would want to go. I didn't even bother finding out. I saw her family at the hospital, but they didn't know who I was. "I… I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know? Mark, she was my girlfriend, I have to go."

"I just…I just… didn't find out, I'm sorry." How do I tell him that I didn't care enough to ask? 

"Would you call her mother and ask her for me?" That is the last thing in the world that I want to do, but Roger asked.

"Sure, no problem. I'll be right back."  
I walk out into the hall and find the payphone that I had called Collins on. I thought _that_ was a hard phone call to make. I call information and get the number for April's mother. I press 1 to be connected automatically; it costs me $2.05. After I plop all my change in, I hear the phone start ringing.   
"Hello, Mrs. Williams, this is Mark Cohen, I… uh was a friend of your daughter's, as well as Roger Davis'."  
Silence on the other end.

"Roger is getting out of the hospital today and he asked me to call and find out when and where the funeral is going to take place."  
Silence on the other end.

"Uh… he would really like to attend and say good…"

"Mr. Cohen" The voice interrupts me. " Please tell your _friend_ Roger that he is not needed nor welcome in our lives. If he shows up anywhere near the funeral, I will call the police and have him arrested immediately." 

"But…" too late, all I hear is a dial tone. "Thanks for your help."  
Shit, how do I tell him? I walk back to the room and find him out of bed gathering his stuff. "Did you get in touch with them?"

"No, the number wasn't listed."  
"Shit, I was afraid of that. That's all right, I know where they live. I'll just show up and find out."  
"No, Roger… I lied; I talked to her mother. They don't want you there. She threatened to have you arrested if you show up."  
"FUCK them!" Roger's rage fires up his eyes. "I have every right to be there."  
"I know… but they lost their daughter."  
"They hadn't seen her in months, they stopped calling and returning her messages."  
"Roger, she was only calling for money to buy heroin with. For the two of you."  
His eyes shoot me a look. "I know… but…"  
"Listen, let's just go home and get some rest. I'm exhausted and I willing to bet you are too."  
He nods in defeat. We walk out of the hospital and get a cab with some money Maureen left we with. Soon we are home to our loft, I try to help Roger up the stairs, but he insists that he is fine though he is pale and out of breath when we get to the top. I suddenly realize that I hadn't been home since arriving at the hospital. I didn't even think to come back and clean things up.

"Uh, Roger, why don't we go get something to eat."  
"No way, I just want to find my bed and go to sleep."  
"OK, wait here though, I just want to make sure everything is ok."  
He leans back against the wall and waits for me.

I open the door and find the apartment spotless. Even our beds are made. On the table there is a bag of food and a note from Maureen. 

__

"Hey boys, welcome home! I thought you might be sick of that hospital food, so I got some take out for you. Just heat and eat! I'll stop by later to check in on you two. Love you both, Maureen." 

Roger laughs, "ooh just what I wanted, Thai food." I start unpacking the food, "Are you hungry?" He shrugs and I begin to prepare us dinner. I start asking him how many spring rolls he wants and realize he is fast asleep. I go over to him and wipe his usually styled hair out of his eyes. I watch him sleep. 

I finally let out a sigh of relief. I didn't think we would ever be in this place again. I thought I would lose him first. Now, he has a second chance. I hope he realizes it. He starts talking and shaking in his sleep. The doctor told me that this is normal, that it would take days to get the drugs out of his system. He didn't want to go to a rehab center, even after my urging. In his sleep, he yells out and asks for help. I don't leave his side the entire time. He sleeps for hours, a restless sleep. Maureen comes and goes. Lecturing me about taking care of myself. I will be fine.

Roger finally wakes up and looks at me with hurt in eyes. His eyes are, unknowing to him, very revealing. Even when he tries to hide his feelings, I can see it right through his eyes. He starts pleading with me, begging me to go out and get him a fix. He swears that he only needs to do it one more time to get the edge off. I refuse and he yells and screams. He starts pounding the walls and throwing things. I try to calm him down but he just looks at me with the same look he used to give me. 

I try calling Maureen, but she isn't home. She said she was going to be with her new friend Joanne tonight, to give Roger and me some space. The feeling in my stomach that I carried around all those months quickly returns. I don't think I can do this alone. I try to convince him to lie down but he again tells me off. A few minutes later, he grabs his jacket and goes out the door. 


	3. Chapter 3

I debate on whether to follow him or not. I'm too mentally and physically exhausted. I haven't slept in about three days and have gone through so much emotion. Besides, I can't stop him if he decides to use again. I couldn't stop him before.

I start cleaning up the loft, picking up the knocked over chairs and table and picking up the broken glass of the glasses he threw against the wall. I look at my watch; 30 minutes have gone by. I should have followed him. Why didn't I follow him? Now, he may be gone forever. He is still sick, what if he passes out on the street? I pick up the prescription bottle we took home from the hospital. AZT. I still can't believe it. First Collins, and now Roger. 

I decide to go and search for him. I walk out of the door, then decide to go back and leave a note for him in case he comes back. I debate on what to say, so I just write, _be back later – M _and take off.

I walk up and down the streets of Alphabet City. I go into all the clubs; I even go and see his dealer. He told me he hadn't seen Roger in a few days, but to tell him he had something special saved for him. Sure buddy, I'll give him the message. No one I asked saw him, though some heard what happened to April. And were concerned, others just didn't care. After about two hours of searching, I decide to go home and see if he was there.

I walk in the door, and the loft is exactly as I had left it. The light on the answering machine was blinking.

__

SPEAK!

"Mark, its Roger. Thanks for everything, but I couldn't take it and I couldn't put you through it. I checked myself into a clinic. I'll be here for 7 days. After that, I'll be home, I promise."

I replay the message. I listen to it about ten times in a row. _'I checked myself into a clinic'_. I feel deliriously happy. He is getting help! I actually start to dance around the apartment. I call Maureen and leave her a message with the news. I can't believe she isn't home yet. I then call Collins who yells at me because I hadn't called him all day. I rehash the day's events and again he is upset that he isn't here with us. I assure him things are fine. Roger is safe right now. As I talk to him I let out a big yawn. Finally, I hang up with him and lie down and fall quickly asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

After about twelve hours of well-deserved sleep, I begin to stir to the smell of something cooking. I open my eyes and see Maureen cooking French toast. "Hey sweetie, what are you doing here?"  
"Nothing baby, I got your message and figured you could use a good breakfast." She comes over and gives me a small kiss on the cheek. 

"You never cook."

"Yeah, well, there is a first for everything. Have you heard from Roger again?"

"No, but I don't expect too. He should call me when the seven days are over." Wow, for the first time in months I feel completely free. The ache in my stomach disappeared and the dull pain in my shoulder seems to have been lifted. Roger is gone, but I know where he is, and I know that he is safe. He is willingly getting help. I can actually come home and not have to worry about what I will find when I get here.

I watch Maureen shuffle around the kitchen. She is telling me about her friend Joanne, whom she met at some random coffee shop. They just started talking to each other and became great friends.   
"She's so smart Mark, she went to Harvard Law. She's a lawyer, isn't that funny?" Maureen laughs.

"Yeah, I guess that's funny."  
"I mean, she's a professional! She actually has a real job. I'm just in awe of her."

Maureen prattles on about Joanne but I stop listening. Maureen has so many

friends that it is hard for me to keep track. I feel bad because I haven't been the best boyfriend lately, but I know she understands. I go over to her and start nibbling on her neck and turn her around and kiss her. She slaps me away playfully, 

"Mark, I'm cooking."

"Yeah, I know," I chase her around our little kitchen. "I love you Maureen. I'm declaring today, MARK AND MAUREEN DAY." I wave my hand over our faces to a pretend sign. "Just you and me baby, no interruptions."  
"I can't pookie, I have to go work, and I'm meeting Joanne for lunch." She serves me my French toast. "Later though, I promise." She kisses me on top of the head. "Your just too sweet." I smile at her in between bites and try to conceal my disappointment.

After she leaves and I scoff down the rest of the French toast and then I take a long-the hot water-ran-out-so-it-was-damn-cold shower. I grab my camera and leave the loft. The first thing I do isI take a deep worry-free cleansing breath when I step outside. Then I start coughing. This is New York after all. I have no real agenda, but I have a few street shots I want to get for my film. I know the perfect place to set up, this little deli down the street from the loft. Roger and I went there often and the owner recognizes me. I'm sure he wouldn't mind me standing outside and shooting for a little while. I turn the corner and get to the deli, but it takes me until I am just outside before I realize the building is boarded up and abandoned. What on earth happened? 

Suddenly, all of the fear and terror and stress of the past six months come rushing over me. I feel like I can not breath and my legs can not hold my weight. Everything around me is in slow motion and blurry I can feel my head pulse. I think I'm going to pass out. I silently scream for someone to help me, but no one even notices. Finally, after about 30 seconds of this feeling I am able to will my legs to move. I go right back to the loft. The feeling has passed, but I am still shaky. I make it back to the loft, and sit down. I take a few deep breaths. I have never felt anything like this before, and it scares me. I try to compose myself, and I get up a few times to leave, but I'm afraid that the feeling will come back. I decide to stay in and work on the script. 

I sit down with my so-called masterpiece and stare at it. Out of the corner of my eye I notice Roger's guitar. It sits in the corner untouched. Abandoned for months. As Roger's addiction grew he had little drive for other things. He gave up so much, the band, songwriting, me. It is impossible for me to fathom the loyalty and devotion he had for heroin. Never trying it myself, I just don't understand. He never seemed like he was enjoying himself. Especially as time moved on. The Roger that I knew, the one always with some smart-ass remark, the one who tried to be so cool, but was just trying to hide his insecurity, he was gone. All that was left was a shell of a version of Roger, who after a while even stopped looking like him. He stopped caring about his appearance, so his usual short bleached hair had grown out, and he never shaved. I can't take my eyes off of the guitar. 

I'm thrilled with the prospect of having Roger back. I can't wait to just hang out and cause trouble like we used to. It suddenly dawns on me that perhaps it will be different. How could it not be? He has been through so much this past year. And now, with his HIV diagnosis… I know Roger; he doesn't bounce back well.

The ringing phone brings me back from my thoughts. 

__

SPEAK!  
"Hey Mark! It's me, pick up the phone, I know you are up there!"  
I recognize Collins deep voice instantly.

"Hey!"  
"Mark, I'm downstairs!"  
I run over to the window and sure enough there he is on the payphone at the corner. I open the window, "I'll throw down the key," and I drop it and I watch him catch it. 

I start to get excited; there is no such thing as a boring day when Collins is around. I open the door and meet him in the stairwell and he runs up picks me up and starts spinning me around.

"What on earth are you doing here?"  
"Well, I couldn't stay in Cambridge while this is going on."  
"How did you get here."  
"Our good friends at Amtrak gave me a ride."  
"I don't want to know, do I?"  
"Oh it was a simple task of hiding in the bathroom and then hanging out in the dining cart." As he speaks I cover my eyes and shake my head. He is unbelievable. 

"You're too much. I'm glad you're here, I missed you."  
"Same here, unfortunately it has to be a short visit, I have a 10am class tomorrow."  
"And how do you suppose to get home?""

"I am home, Mark."  
"Let me rephrase then, how do you suppose to get back to Cambridge?"  
"Same way." He sees the look on my face, "you worry too much! Ok, so where is our boy?"  
"Manhattan Rehab Center, but he can't have any visitors."  
"We'll see about that."  
"No, Collins I mean it. They have a lot of rules."

"Mark, rules are made for one reason,"  
"To be broken I know. But I'm serious; we have to let him do this on his own. He has to follow the rules or else they will kick him out."  
"I came all this way, we'll be in and out in two minutes."  
"Tom, no."

I never call him Tom. Never. I am trying to stress the importance. He looks at me while he decides to the push the issue.

"Collins, I want to see him too, just as badly, but we _have_ to let him do this himself."  
Collins nods in agreement and gives me a hug. 

He puts his arm around me, "So, where is the queen diva?"  
"Oh, she's working and having lunch with a friend."  
"Working? Maureen?"  
"Yeah, she is working as a nude model for a class at NYU. She gets paid to stand around naked, it's her perfect job." Collins laughs and says that since we are on our own; he would take me to lunch. "I thought you didn't have any money." He tells me to stop worrying.

We go into a McDonalds and get our food.

"So how are you?" Collins likes to put it out there.

I smile at him and thank him for asking. Usually I wouldn't talk about what is going on in my mind, but I know Collins, and he knows me. "Honestly Collins, I don't know how I am. This whole thing has drained me." I told him about what happened earlier today and he quickly diagnosed me with having a panic attack. He asks me if I had been taking care of myself and I shook my head. I told him about all the months of staying with Maureen and my daily trips to the loft. I rehashed all my sleepless nights and long days. It feels so good to get the words out of my body. 

Collins wished that I would have called him, but he understands why I didn't. He had been home a month ago and saw Roger at his worst. He tried talking to him and seemed to get through, but soon after he left, April returned. Their conversation was soon forgotten. "Collins, we both know that there was nothing you or I could do."

He looks at me and takes my hand, "I could have been there for you."

My head drops and smiles. He really is a great friend. Then he begins with all the questions. "How are you and Maureen? How are you dealing with losing April? How's the film?" I answered each question with answers he was satisfied with. 

Finally, we left McD's and I turn the questioning around. "How are you feeling? Is there anyone special in your life. How is your plan on taking over the world coming?" We spent the afternoon wandering the streets, watching street performers, and just enjoying each other. I feel at ease for the first time in a long time. 

Then Collins declares that Maureen; him and me need to go clubbing tonight. I protest but he tells me I need to "_shake my groove thang." _He shook his waste and waved his arms when he said those words. I couldn't help but laugh and concede.

We went to Maureen's to surprise her when she came home from work. She and Collins are great friends as well. He is the one who introduced us actually. I needed an actress for my film and he brought her. I was taken with her right away. We get there at five and wait and wait. "Well, she wasn't expecting us, but she did promise me to hang out."  
Finally, at 7:00, after the two us ransacking her kitchen for food and Collins actually doing the dishes, Maureen bursts into the apartment. Collins quickly hides behind the kitchen counters so she won't see him. She is her usual melodramatic self, yelling something about how the kid at Starbucks is out to get her, and the subways were packed. I just stand there grinning at her; I'm the worst at keeping secrets. She keeps babbling on and finally stops and looks at me. "What Mark, what is it?"  
"Uh, I think your sink is leaking again."  
"What the fuck! The landlord said he… Oh My God! Collins!" He gets up and picks her up and swings her around the same way he did with me. She starts asking him all the same questions and he answers them again. I just sit back and laugh. Maureen definitely has her faults, but I really do love her, and admire her zest for life. Now that Roger is safe and getting better, I vow to devote more time to her, to us. I hear Collins tease her about being a stripper and she pretends to take offense and declares that she is helping young artists explore their talents.   
I go up behind her and wrap my arms around her waste and nuzzle her neck. Collins tells her about his bright idea for tonight and she gets excited. She knows I loathe going to dance clubs, so the notion of getting me inside one sends her scurrying into her room to change.

Collins asks me how can I keep up with her. I often wonder that myself. Finally, after another hour she is ready to go. She does look good though. "Honey, you know what leather does to me." I start chasing her around the room and finally catch her and throw her on the couch. "Ok, you two, enough is enough." Collins jokes with me, then Maureen and I look at each other and simultaneously attack Collins and start to tickle him.

At last we get ourselves together and head out the door. We realize that it is way too soon to go to a club so we go to the park. While we are hanging out Collins buys us pretzels. Maureen tries to feed me a piece and drops in down my shirt, leaving behind a yellow mustard stain. 

I go home really fast to change. I walk fast because I want to get back quickly, we are having so much fun, and I haven't laughed in forever. I bolt up the stairs skipping every other step and burst in the door. I head straight for my room and grab the first clean shirt I see. As I start to leave, I notice the red light on the machine.

_Speak!_

"Mark? It's me Roger. Are you there? Pick up the phone if you are…. I'm not supposed to be calling anyone, but Mark, I can't do this. I'm not going to make it. It hurts… I have to stop the hurt…. Oh, why aren't you at home? Mark, I'm sorry, I can't go through with this…"


	5. Chapter 5

__

Oh God! I should have been here! How could I have missed his phone call? I stand and replay the message over. I analyze each infliction in his voice. "I'm sorry, I can't go through with this…" GO THROUGH WITH WHAT? What's happening? I listen to the message a third time, then a fourth, then a fifth. I start tearing the room apart searching for the phone book. Finally, I find it and the number.

"Hello, my name is Mark Cohen." I wonder if she can tell I'm sobbing? "My friend, Roger Davis is a patient there and he left a very cryptic message on my answering machine, I really need to talk to him.

"I'm sorry sir, I can not help you."  
"What do you mean you can't help me?"  
"I cannot deny or confirm anyone being a patient here, and by searching for your friend to give him the phone is doing just that."  
"But he called me, and he said things to make me believe he may hurt himself, please, you have to let me talk to him!"

"I'm sorry sir, I can not help you.'  
"You said that already. Please, help him. Roger Davis is his name, just tell him that Mark called and"  
Dialtone.

I stand with the phone against my ear for a long time. Finally realizing that I'm tying up the phone, I put it back on its receiver and run out the door. I race back to the park; aware that every second I take, I could be missing another phone call. I find Maureen and Collins and quickly explain what happened and that I really have to get back in case he calls again. Maureen gets really upset with me, even Collins is aggravated. "Mark, you said so yourself, he needs to do this on his own."   
"I was wrong. He needs me and I promised him I would be there for him, and I wasn't." 

"You promised me that we would go out tonight." Maureen chides in. "That we would celebrate us. I need to be with you tonight Mark." I tell her I'm sorry and I'll make it up and run back home. I sprint up the stairs, no messages.

I spend the rest of the night only inches away from the phone. I actually fell asleep on the couch with it in my lap. Collins comes home late and leaves early. I find a note from him the next morning. It says to call him. It will have to wait until after Roger calls.

Two days have gone by, and still no word from Roger. I haven't left the loft except twice for food. Both times I was a wreck worried that I would miss his call. The phone hasn't stopped ringing, and since I'm not screening, I've actual been pretty social from my apartment. Maureen has called each day twice, to let me know she is still mad at me, but to check in to see if he has called yet. My mother called yesterday, and was overjoyed to actually have a conversation with me. She has no idea who I even am anymore, it's kind of sad. 

I have spent the last two days of almost solitude contemplating my future and where I want to go. Do I want to live like this forever? My films are shit that is for sure. I know I have the talent, but I haven't figured out how I want to do things yet. I sit and stare at my script and actually do some work on it. Then I realize that I have all this pent up emotion so I open to a blank page and begin writing. I don't take my pen off the page, I continue until I have 5 notebook pages filled. I write about everything from Roger to Maureen, even my mother. I realize that I keep everything inside of me, try to pretend to all the people who care about me, that I'm fine and usually I am. But, I never release my feelings. Maureen always just wants to have fun and not be serious, and Roger, well Roger and I haven't had a _real_ conversation in months. I did talk to Collins the other day, but really only talked about half of what I was thinking.

I sit at that table for hours and the tears won't stop. I am actually wailing. I finally try calling Maureen, but she isn't home. I make my way into the bathroom and go into the tub. There is no water in it, and I am fully dressed, but for some reason, this makes me feel better. 

The phone finally rings. I run to answer it, afraid I may miss the call.   
"Mark, it's me." It's Maureen.

"Hey," I try to control my voice so it doesn't appear that I have been crying. 

"Mark, there is a letter here for you. No return address. It looks like Roger's handwriting."  
"What?" 

"Yeah, do you want me to open it?" I can tell by her voice she is dying to.

"No, I'll be right there."  
I rush out the door without even locking it behind me. I run until finally I get to Maureen's place. I am exhausted. I make it up the stairs.

"Hi," She hands me the letter and walks away. Apparently she is a little pissed that I finally left the loft, not for her, but for Roger.

"Sweetie, I'm sorry…" She ignores me and goes back to eating her mac & cheese.

I open the letter and take a deep breath. I instantly recognize Roger's scratchy handwriting.

__

Mark,

Sorry about the message I left you yesterday. I was ready to give up, but I knew I couldn't. I'm glad you didn't go after me the other day, I had to make this decision on my own. I think it is the best one I ever made. I want to get better and begin living again, because I really only have a limited time. I've been out of touch for so long, I'm amazed that I still have someone like you in my life. I would have given up on you a long time ago.

Anyway, thanks for being there for me and I'll be home soon,

Roger

I read the letter twice. "What's it say?" I hand it over to her so that she can read it for herself. 

I sit down on the couch next to her and just whisper, "I'm sorry."  
She takes my head and puts it in her lap and begins playing with my hair. "I know pookie… I know…."  
I begin to cry all over again, but this time I have Maureen to hold onto.


	6. Chapter 6

------ I never felt this story was finished so I am continuing on… 

"No Collins, he isn't home yet… I will, I promise, Collins, I will call you the second he comes through that door. I'm sure he understands why you can't be here… yup… uh-huh… ok! Don't worry, I'll call you… fine, I'll talk to you later." I hang up the phone and go back to the window and looking out for Roger. I don't know how he will get here or what direction he will be coming from, but I stare down at the front door. The phone rings again.

"Hello? Oh, Maureen, hey… no he isn't here yet… I don't know what time… no, it would probably be best if it is just me waiting here for him… ok, well have fun with Joanne then. Yeah, I really want to meet her too,… ok, I love you." She hangs up the phone before I can get the I love you out. I tangle the phone wire around my finger as I stand staring out the window. 

A cab pulls up in front of our building a few hours later and Roger steps out. He looks different, better. He got his hair cut, so it is back to its usually short spiky style, and the facial hair is all gone. I watch him pay the driver and I silently debate if I should go meet him at the door or not. I go over to our mangled sofa and sit and pretend to flip through a magazine, but as I hear his boots climbing the stairs I get up and go and open the door to our loft. 

"Hey, welcome home." My smile is miles wide, I am unable to hold in my excitement.

"Hey Mark. Thanks." He gives me an awkward hug and walks further inside. "Uh, I'm going to go shower and change." 

"Oh ok! Do you want me to get some food or something?" My voice is high and my speech is fast. 

He just shrugs, "It's up to you." He disappears into his room and then a few seconds later into the bathroom. So this is what I was waiting for? His big return to real life. I knew it wasn't going to be easy, I just hoped it would be.

I fall back into the couch and close my eyes. I really don't know how to act or what to say. I hear the water in the shower go on and I decide to run out and get some food. I grab my coat and go to the corner store and buy two sandwiches and get back just as the shower is turned off. I find two clean plates and put our lunch on them and carry mine to the couch. Roger comes out of the bathroom, dressed, grabs his sandwich and he sits next to me. We sit in silence for a little while. 

"So, how was it? How are you feeling?" My voice is soft and timid, I'm afraid to bring up the conversation.

"I'm ok, it was ok. Well, no really it was the hardest thing I ever did, but I survived." He takes a bite of his sandwich, "I'm glad I went though, I don't think you could have handled seeing me like that."

Now it was my turn to shrug, "I'm sure I have seen you much worse."

He nods, "There was just a lot of shit all at once, you know… April, AIDS, withdrawal, I didn't think I was strong enough."   
"Well, I knew you were, I mean, I know you are. I'm glad you went though, not that I wouldn't have been there for you, but it was probably good for you to get away."

Again he nods as he finishes his sandwich. "I had a lot of time to think, a LOT of time. I don't know… I think I am my own worse enemy, you know? I am terrified to go out there again and face all those people I used to hang out with, my old band, the people at the clubs. I know how easy it would be for me to shoot up again, and I know how good it would feel. But I can't. My life wasn't worth shit when I was using." I sit and silently agree as he continues, "I also know, I will never go through withdrawal again, so if I do it once, that is it for me." That last statement scares me, but I still remain silent. He gets up off the couch and goes to the window, "I know what I have to do to get better, so don't question me, ok?"

"Sure, ok." I can tell that the conversation is now over. "Collins wanted you to call him when you got home. His number is next to the phone." 

After Roger and Collins' brief conversation, Roger comes back to the couch and sits down and closes his eyes. I don't know what I expected, but this wasn't it. 

"Hey, do you want to get out of here? Go to a movie or just walk around?" I sit down next to him.

He shakes his head, "No, I really just want to be home for awhile. You go though, I'll be ok."

"No, I want to hang out with you. It's been… well it has been a long time." He looks at me sternly, "Why don't you get your guitar and we can play cheesy 80's band or something?"

He looks over to where his guitar sits, cobwebs attaching it to the wall. "No, not really interested." He picks up the old Village Voice I had lying around, "Look Mark, I really don't want you hovering over me. I'm ok, really."

"Oh, ok." I get off the couch, getting the point. "Well, I'll go to Maureen's for a little while then. If you need something call me over there." He hardly responds to me, just nods. "Roger, you sure you are ok?"  
"I'm fine, just go, ok?" I grab my coat and stop at the door. I'm about to say something else, but I decide not to bother and leave him behind. Something worries me, the determined look on his face, as if he had something planned. What he said before, about never going through withdrawal again keeps reentering my mind. I hope he is strong enough to stay away. I wish there was something I could to do to guarantee it. 

Arriving at Maureen's place, I let myself in with her key. It is empty and then is when I remember that she was going out with her friend Joanne. I walk around her place, studying all her belongings, things I have already memorized but still enjoy looking at. There is a picture of the two of us sitting on her desk. I recognize it as it being taken by Collins on one of the first days we met. It used to be in a frame, but now it is just lying on the table. I pick it up and study it. It was two years old already, her hair was darker then, so was mine actually. She is facing forward and I am kissing her cheek, a perfect example of our relationship. I put it back on the desk and absentmindedly open the top drawer of her desk. A notebook is sitting on top and I take it out and open it. It takes me only seconds to see that it is a journal, so I quickly close it. Then, curiosity over takes me and I open it again, shutting it almost immediately. I put it back in its place, and grab my coat and leave before I let myself read one word.

All the way back to the loft, I fixate about that journal. I can't help but wonder what is written inside and why has she never mentioned to me that she keeps one? I know it isn't exactly my business, but all the time I have spent there, I have never seen her write in it. I get to my loft when I realize that I never did leave her a note, and convince myself to go back. But I know why I'm going back, so I make it to the end of the block before turning around. I run up the stairs and practically run into the loft, Roger is exactly where I left him. "Do not let me go back there, I can not be trusted."

"What are you talking about, and why are you out of breath?" He puts the Voice down on the floor and kicks his feet onto the couch. I rattle off my explanation about Maureen's diary and he shakes his head at me. "You need to learn to mind your own business. Oh wait, that wouldn't be you, would it?"

"Nope, not at all."

-----------------

Ok, more to come, I'm just tired and want to post this so…


	7. Chapter 7

Weeks have gone by, months actually, I don't know how many, they have all started to blend in together

Weeks have gone by, months actually, I don't know how many, they have all started to blend in together. Everyday is the same, the monotony is becoming second nature. Roger and I have the same conversation every morning. 

"You got plans today?" 

"Not really."  
"We could use some food, if you feel like getting out for awhile."

"Yeah, maybe."

"Ok, I'm off to Maureen's… to film… or wherever I'm off too."

Then I leave. I have to, I can't stand to sit around the loft all day and watch him mope. He doesn't do anything, he doesn't call anyone. When he first came home people stopped by, his old friends, the ones who weren't wasted, to see how he was doing. But he was usually such a miserable prick that they never came back. 

I stopped asking him to join me. He always says no, and when he wants to, he will leave. He keeps mumbling to me about leaving the city, but he won't even leave the apartment. He hasn't even picked up his guitar since he's been back. I called him on that one time and I was told to my mind my own fucking business. 

It angers me, because he told me that when he was using, he wasn't really living and he isn't really living now. He hardly sleeps, just stays up all night and stares out the window. His only contact with outside life is me, and he has basically shut me out. 

Today, I'm taking off to see Maureen. Things haven't been that great for us lately, and I don't know why. I have all this time trying to stay away from the loft, and just hang out with her, but she has seemed really distant. Each time I go near her to kiss or to nuzzle, she steps away, laughing it off, telling me I only have one thing on my mind.

I get to her place and knock and she isn't home. I go in and look around for signs as to where she may be. We were supposed to meet here at noon, I look at the clock, I'm on time, where is she? The picture of the two of us that Collins took is nowhere to be found. There is one still of Roger, April, me and her in a frame. I pick it up and look at it. It seems so long ago. Maureen and April were actually friends in high school, and when I started dating Maureen, it didn't take long for Roger and April to meet. The four of us had a lot of fun for a short time, but it changed really quick. April and I didn't get along, really from day one. I knew she was using before anyone else, I walked in on her shooting up by accident. When I went to tell Roger, he told me what he always tells me, to mind my own fucking business. We all stopped hanging out shortly after that. Maureen moved out, and April and Roger sunk into their haze and I ran back and forth between. I put the picture back onto the desk and open the drawer.

The blue notebook is still there. I hadn't allowed myself to look at since that day I found it. I would hate it if Maureen read my journal, if I kept one. Still, maybe it would help me figure out what is wrong in our relationship. I will just open it to a random page, read it and put it back. I pull the notebook from the drawer slowly, afraid to even touch it, to put fingerprints or a fold or anything else that would give me away. I open the cover slowly, as I look over my shoulder to make absolutely sure no one is watching me. Of course there is no one here. I open the pages randomly to the middle and again look over my shoulder and start to read. 

__

August 7

My birthday, same old shit different year. Mark wanted to take me out to dinner and see a movie, but I really didn't feel like spending the whole night with him. I really wanted to go to that club with Joanne, but I know how hurt he would be. So I went, and yeah I guess it was fun. It just isn't the same anymore, I don't really know what has changed…

I suddenly hear a key turn in the door and I shove the notebook back into the drawer and close it quickly. I turn around and try and erase all expressions of guilt off my face. 

"Maureen?"  
"Hey, what are you doing?"

"Just waiting for you, " I flash her a smile and walk towards her and attempt to kiss her, but like always she darts away. "Something wrong?"

She pouts, "Nothing Pookie, why?"

"Nothing." I keep thinking to that diary entry, that was from August, it is now October, would she still rather be somewhere else than with me? "So what are you up for today?" I try and push the thought out of my mind.

"Oh I don't know, not really anything I guess. I have a new performance piece I'm working on, I really need to get some work done on it."

"Oh, well I could help you." I sit down on her couch, "What is it about?"

"Well, Joanne was telling me about these kids who come home to empty apartments because their parent's work… they call them…" Her faces scrunches as she tries and think of the word.

"Latchkey kids?"  
"Yeah, that's right! Well, I thought I could do some sort of show or to entertain them after school."  
"Well that is really noble, what do you have in mind?" 

"Oh, I don't know, Joanne was going to help me with it, you don't really need to bother." Joanne, Joanne, Joanne, I am really starting to dislike this woman.

"But I want to, we always work on your performances."

"Eh, this one is different… but you will still be my production manager right?"  
"Yeah of course, I'm the only one who knows how to use the equipment." My heart sinks as I try and hide my disappointment.

"Oh Pookie, it's ok, the next one we will do together, ok?"

I nod, "Well, I guess I'll let you get to work." I grab my coat and camera and head out the door. "Maureen, I love you."

She smiles back at me, "I'll call you later, ok?" 

I mope back to the loft, trying to figure out what is going on with Maureen. I start walking up the starts and practically walk into Benny.   
"Mark! Old buddy old pal! How are you?"

He offers me his hand and I shake it and he pulls me in for a hug. I think Benny may actually the one person I want to see less than the mysterious Joanne. "Hey Benny."

"Long time, no see amigo. How's it going?"

"Fine, fine." There really is no getting around this, we are trapped in the stairwell. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, moving in a friend to the apartment downstairs from you." And as if on cue, a pretty Latina walks inside, carrying a few boxes. She walks past us, smiling at me. Yeah, a friend, I'm sure.

"Oh, well that's good, I'll let you get back to work then." I try and walk around him, but he steps in front of me. 

"Mark, what's the hurry? Can you give us a hand?" Ugh, that is the last thing I want to do. As I stumble for an excuse, not really coming up for any, Roger comes to the door.

"Hey Mark, Maureen's on the phone, she sounds desperate."

"Roger! Buddy! How are you!" Benny flashes his smile up to Roger, but he just slams the door. 

"Sorry, Benny, I got to go, I'm helping Maureen with a new performance today." Well, I hope I am now anyway. I run up the stairs, happy to get away from him. When I get to the top landing, just as I see the girl walking out of the apartment, and Benny grabbing her by the waist and kissing her, I yell, "Say hi to Alison for me, ok?" I walk into the loft hearing "Who's Alison?" in the background.

"Thanks, Roger, you saved me."

He just shrugs and I go over to the phone.

"Maureen?"

"What the hell do you think you were doing?"

"What? What are you talking about?"

"Ok then, when you were in my apartment today, did you happen to go near my desk?" Oh shit, nailed. I close my eyes as I fall into the closest chair.

"No, I mean yeah, I did. I'm sorry."

"How dare you! How dare you invade my personal thoughts?" Her voice rises, both in tone and volume. Maureen has a tendency to be a drama queen, but in this case, I think she has every right to be.

"I didn't read anything, a couple of sentences, enough to figure out it was a journal." A little lie, but I have to make myself sound better.

"Why did you have to know what it was in the first place?"

"I.. I don't know.. .oh God Maureen, I'm sorry!" 

"Well, I hope you found out what you wanted to!" She slams down the phone and a dialtone remains in my ear. I quickly dial her back, but she just picks up the phone and hangs it up again. "Shit." I try again, this time to get a busy signal. I hide my face in my hands, "Shit, I messed up."

"Couldn't mind your own fucking business, could you?" Roger's voice interrupts my thoughts. I practically forgot he was there. "I've been telling you for years, you need to mind your own business."

"I… I…" I have no excuse. "I know, you're right."  
  
He walks over to me and pats my shoulder, "Reading your girlfriend's journal, smart move, really." Sitting down next to me he adds, "Find out anything."  
"No, just that she didn't want to spend her birthday with me. She wanted to go to some club with Joanne."

"Who's Joanne?" 

"Some friend of hers that she has been spending a lot of time with. She's a lawyer or something. I've never met her." I put my head down on the table. "She is never going to forgive me for this, is she?"

"Man, I don't know, but if I ever catch you going through my stuff, I'll kick the shit out of you."  
"Yeah, thanks Roger for your support."


	8. Chapter 8

"Maureen, thanks for coming with me. It means a lot." I reach over and grab her hand.

"No problem Pookie, it's nice to get out of the city." She smiles at me, "And Thanksgiving in Scarsdale, what's better than that?"

"I know, it sucks, I don't want to either. Just a couple of hours though. We go in, we chat, we eat more food than we have the last month, and we go home." I merge the rented car onto the highway, feeling strange to be driving after so long. "Eat and run as they say." She smiles and turns the radio louder and we drive in silence.

A week after the diary incident, Maureen forgave me. She just called me as if nothing happened. I was afraid to bring it up, and she hasn't mentioned it again. In fact, things have been really good the last few months. We have been spending more time together, and I have been loving it. Roger is still trapped in the house, and I have had writer's block, so I haven't been working. She hasn't even mentioned Joanne to me lately, it is strange.

We pull into the driveway of the house I grew up in. My mother comes rushing out, apron on, wooden spoon in hand. She loves Maureen. I think my mother was convinced I was gay until I brought her home the first time. We get out of the car and she hugs Maureen and then comes over to me. "Mark, honey, you look… well, a little disheveled." Gee… great to be home.

Four hours and a huge meal later, we are on our way back to the city. I take the longer route, because I like driving, and because Maureen and I alone together and it is really nice. "Was it terrible?"

"Nah," She starts fumbling with the radio again, "Your family is great, perfect in fact."

"Well, you haven't met my father…"

She shrugs, "Cindy's baby is so adorable. You should really go home more often."  
"No way! Once a year is more than enough. Yeah, the baby is adorable, but it will grow up to be like Xavier, and that is just scary."

"Yeah, that kid is a brat, just like his uncle." She pokes me in the side to let me know that she is joking. We laugh the rest of the way home, about my family, her family, our friends. We never let the conversation grow serious, and that is great by me. 

I drop her off at her apartment before I go bring back the car. "Want me to come by tonight, I could stay over?" I really don't want this day to end, it has been so perfect.

"No pookie, I'm tired. Why don't you just go home and I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Ok fine." But still, I really want to spend more time with her, and what is waiting for me at home, but a brooding ex-musician? So I drop off the car and walk back to Maureen's. It takes me about 30 minutes round trip. I still have the leftovers my mother sent me home with, and I carry them up to her apartment. When I get to the door, I hear a loud female voice, much deeper than Maureen's.

"I THOUGHT YOU WERE GOING TO TELL HIM!"

"I was… I am… it's just… it's not easy, you know?"

"Maureen, baby, I know it isn't easy, but it isn't fair to him, and it isn't fair to me!"

"I care about him, I really do. He has been through so much this past year… I can't hurt him!"

"Well, you need to choose then, him or me. Because, I'm sick of hiding, and going to places where we know he won't be and sneaking over late at night, after you go out with him! I've been putting up with it way too long!" 

I sink down onto the floor with my back against the wall. I can hear every word they are saying, every infliction in their voice, every ounce of pity that Maureen holds for me. Pity… that is why we have been together for this long. 

"Joanne, you know I choose you, I love you!" Silence, I close my eyes, picturing what is going on in there. Maureen… with another woman… falling in love with a woman… not being in love with me anymore… I don't know what to do, but I have to get out of here. I stand up and spill all the leftovers. "SHIT!" Shit, I didn't mean to say that so loud.

"Mark?" Suddenly Maureen is at the door, blocking the view to the apartment. "What… what are you doing here?"

"I… uh… I was just leaving." I start walking away, but Maureen catches up. 

"Mark, wait, I think we need to talk."

I shake my head, letting a tear escape. "No need Maureen, you get out easy, I heard everything." I give her a smile to let her think things are ok.

"Pookie…" She grabs my shoulders.

"Don't… just leave me alone, ok? And don't call me that anymore."  
"Fine, I'm sorry, Mark… I'm really sorry." I pull even further away from her. "I want you in my life though, I can't imagine you not being in it. I just… I fell in love with her. I wasn't expecting it, but it happened. I'm so sorry, I didn't want to hurt you."

I just keep shaking my head, wanting to leave, but frozen still. "Why… why didn't you tell me?"

"Truth is Mark, I thought you knew. After you read my journal, I assumed you figured it out."  
"I told you, I didn't read it."

"Yeah, well, I kind of wish you did, it would have been easier." I walk around her now.

"Just leave me alone Maureen, ok?"  
"Mark, promise me we'll be friends… please?"

"Fine, whatever."

"You'll still be my production manager?" I can't believe she is even asking me this at a time like this, just shows how selfish she is.

"Fine, yes, just let me go home, ok?" I bolt down the stairs onto the street, the tears blinding me.


	9. Chapter 9

Christmas Eve… the last month has dragged by. I have joined Roger in becoming a recluse, neither of us have left the loft for weeks, minus a few short trips to the store on the corner. We completely stopped answering the phone, screening all our calls, and never answering them.

I haven't seen Maureen since Thanksgiving, but I have talked to her once. She called, begging me to pick up the phone, and in a moment of weakness, that I soon regretted, I did. She apologized, begged for my forgiveness, and then begged me to help her stage a protest against Benny and Cyberarts idea. Screwing over Benny and spending time with Maureen… I was all for it. 

I am over her though. It didn't take as long as I thought, but I am. After I left her place, I came back here and filled in Roger with what happened. I think that was the first genuine sound of laughter I have heard from him in a year. I would have been mad, but it was so great to see him smile, that I just laughed with him. It was an absurd situation, and I wasn't going to let it get to me. I took all my mementos of Maureen, the pictures, letters, things she left behind and put them in a drawer. About a week later, we were looking for something to burn and I tossed it all in. It was a moment of clarity.

I had been waiting for her to contact me about the performance, but she hadn't until three days ago. She called, we screened, and she left a message that she didn't need my help anymore, but she insisted she wanted both Roger and I there, for the protest and dinner at the Life Café afterwards. I didn't let Roger see my disappointment, but I think he knew.

Today, I'm a wreck. Knowing that I am going to see Maureen tonight, and undoubtedly meet the infamous Joanne is making me insane. I am determined to get Roger to come with me tonight, I don't think I can handle this by myself. 

Our quote-on-quote wood burning stove is running out of fuel, so I begin searching around the loft for something to burn. In one corner of the loft, Roger's guitar sits and a pile of my screenplays lays next to it. Both have been abandoned for months. I have been working on my so-called masterpiece for years now, but nothing has worked. I go over to the corner and sit and start looking through the papers. Reading over my past work, I realize that it is shit. I am deeply involved in one of my opuses when Roger comes over and asks me what I am doing.

"Here, hold this." I hand him his guitar and reach for some papers behind it. 

"What do I want this for?"

"I don't care, but if you don't do something with it, it would make great fire wood." He smacks me lightly on the head and takes the guitar and swears under his breath how dusty it is, then he moves to the table and starts blowing off the dust. He then plays a chord, which just sounds awful. "Tune that thing, please!" I roll my eyes and go back to suffering through my screenplay. Roger begins tuning his guitar and we both lose ourselves for a little while.

"I didn't realize how much I missed this." His voice breaks my concentration, and I just look up at him. "This guitar, was everything to me before, I don't know why I haven't played it."

"Well, now is as good as time as any." I take the script I'm reading and put it in the pile to burn. The pile to save in non-existent.

"I just haven't had any ideas for so long. But I need to do something, I need to leave something behind. Like you with your film." I just look up at him.

"My film? My film is shit. These screenplays are shit. Everything I have ever done, is shit…" I could go on with my self-loathing all night, but he interrupts me.

"You have the talent, you are going to do something great, you have all the time in the world. Me, I'm just going to die in a few years with nothing to show for it."

"Roger…" I start to scold, but the look of determination on his face stops me. "Well, do something about it then. Stop sitting around doing nothing. Work on a song, an album, start a new band, do something…" He nods and goes back to concentrating on his guitar. I look down at my screenplays, worlds that I have created that will never exist and never seem right. That is when it dawns on me, my own world is more amazing than anything I could think of. My friends, our problems, we have our own drama. I go over to my camera and pick it up.

I point the camera at Roger, "What are you doing Mark?" I wave my head to shush him and he continues tuning the guitar.

__

"December 24th 9pm Eastern Standard Time… From here on in I shoot without a script…


End file.
